A Ghost I Know Well
by x. I Got You First .x
Summary: Sometimes he takes things too far, but no one is there to talk him out of it. Or so he believes. [AU: What if Tess Morgan survived the car accident and met E2 Harry? Takes place during 2.12, after Harry admits that he betrayed the Team. One-shot]


_A part of my AU in which Tess Morgan did survive, lived through the Reverse Flash's hell, and returned to the Labs to help against Zoom. Inspired by a thing I saw on the site of constant tumbling. This scene would NOT leave my head after that. ;P_

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 **A Ghost They Each Know Well**  
 _One-Shot_

Harrison knew someone was there – the seal was open, and there was the subtle sound of breathing – but no one made a sound. Harry did not bother lifting his head. If anyone had something to say to him, he was not interested. He knew all of Team Flash would love to reprimand him for what he did. Any one of them could be standing on the other side of the glass, sharp words on the ends of their tongues and scowls on their faces, and it would only remind him more of the choice that most definitely sentenced his daughter to death. He didn't turn to greet this visitor, whoever it was; he didn't want that guilt.

"So. You're really not him."

It was all he could do not to glance up at the sound of a new voice. Although, 'new' was not entirely accurate... It wasn't the female tone that made the alarm bells in his head start ringing, his insides swell up with more grief and guilt, or his mind to leap into speedster-paced thinking. It wasn't the words themselves that pushed him deeper into his long list – or rather, _ocean_ – of regrets. _Who_ it sounded like did that.

He turned his head left, and was rendered speechless when his dark gaze fell on a tall blond. She had the same long hair, the same gentle eyes, the same way her forehead creased when frustrated. Standing there was the same person he thought he would spend the rest of his life with.

Harry's mind, usually fast, spun like a broken record, stuck on one moment and unable to preform its function properly. "Tess." The whisper escaped him before he could stop himself.

It couldn't be her. She was dead.

"I'm not him," he confirmed, leaning his head back against the hard, blue tiles of the cell. Exhaustion was just starting to creep into his voice. Pursuing those words was a heavy silence on both ends, during which Harry felt he was supporting the entire world on his shoulders.

"Is she mine?"

"No." The word was harsh, but it was true.

"My counterpart's," she corrected herself.

The corrected question was only met by silence.

"I see the way you're looking at me, or hardly, for that matter," the woman pointed out. A beat. "I know that look."

"Because you knew my doppelgänger," Harry guessed with a scoff.

"Because I know what I feel," corrected Tess. " _Now_."

Harry pushed himself up from the blue ground. "She's not your daughter," he persisted, reinforcing the previous answer to he question. He paced to the other side of the cell, which only took a second given its size, and raised a hand to the back of his neck. Something else was the same: her temperament. The way she confronted problems – with her spine straight up-and-down and her words coming out so strong, so _forward_ – reminded Harry too much of Jesse. The very attitude his daughter learned from his own Tess.

"Things didn't have to turn out this way," Tess replied after moments of silence beat by. But her words were only met with an abrupt glare.

"It didn't?" he challenged with a hint of question, dropping the hand back to his side.

"You didn't have to betray them. They're good people, they're trying to help."

He bit his lip, facing anywhere _but_ her. Somehow, looking away made it easier to let out the emotion building in his chest. It shot out, emphasized with the fragmented words that tumbled into the air. He felt better with his eyes on the blue, like he was not disappointing his long-dead wife. "Zoom has my daughter! _My_ , daughter!" he stressed. A hand shot out and smacked the blue siding harder than he intended. But anger... anger had always been the hardest to manage. The easiest to let reign. "All I had to do was protect her. So you think there's something– _anything_ out there I wouldn't do to _get, her, back_?"

The worst part about the aftermath of his outburst was that she didn't budge. Not a muscle moved. Not a twitch of the mouth or a quirk of the eyebrows.

She knew how to handle him.

"You don't have any idea," he added, this time steely calm, regret and resentment easily detected. The sheer volume dropped to something low, and the tone matched the shadows casting over his face. "You're not a parent."

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 _And scene. I really like this AU – lots of potential for feels (*evil laugh*) – so I may write more. If you enjoyed, don't forget to leave a review. ;)_


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